


Come Together

by SwiftEmera



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftEmera/pseuds/SwiftEmera
Summary: In hindsight, Gabriel should've known that Sam was going to be more than a casual hookup, but by the time he realises it, it's too late to run away.





	Come Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bikeross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikeross/gifts).



> Okay so this fic is like two weeks late but I started this for [Medha's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bikeross/works) birthday and I'm so sorry it took this long. But HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY MEDHA, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND I HOPE THE WAIT WAS WORTH IT.
> 
> Special thanks to the ever wonderful [Fox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxVII/pseuds/FoxVII) for beta-ing and providing such amazing support and encouragement. I LOVE YOU. 
> 
> Title taken from The Beatles because I'm lazy and the person that usually picks my titles is getting this as a gift lmao.

It was never supposed to be more than a casual hookup.

It's not Gabriel doesn't want Sam around. Actually, it's kind of the opposite. Sam's gotten under his skin in a way that other people have only come close to. By now, anyone else would've run away or, more likely, Gabriel would've ditched town and buried himself deep. Pretty much his philosophy in life. You run away, you don't get attached. You don't get attached, you don't get hurt. Or so it should go. But Sam snuck up on him and deconstructed his walls when he wasn't even looking – taking him in with pretty words and oh-so-talented lips, and by the time Gabriel realised what was going on, it was too late.

So now he's stuck here, because if he runs, it'll hurt. If he stays, it'll hurt. In a few words? He's screwed.

“Gabe?”

He blinks himself back to reality, green-brown-hazel-whateverthefuckthatcolouris eyes gazing up at him. So innocent – trusting. The fact that Sam lets himself be so vulnerable for him is way more of a turn-on than it should be.

Slipping back into character, he tsks, running his fingers through Sam's hair. He can't help himself. “What did we say about calling me that?”

Sam’s kneeling at his feet, naked, in direct contrast to Gabriel’s fully-clothed state. His pupils inflate at the reprimand. The sight of Sam’s Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thicky is enough to make Gabriel's cock twitch in interest.

“Sir. Sorry, sir.” Sam corrects, not looking even remotely sorry.

Gabriel's lips twitch in amusement. “Oh, you _will_ be. But first I'm gonna need a reminder of your safeword, Sammy-boy. Remember, mine is platypus.”

Sam wrinkles his nose, head lowering ever-so-slightly. “Pennywhistle.”

“Good boy.”

Sam preens at the praise, his back straightening, his eyes lighting up. Gabriel can almost see his tail wagging. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Although... that _does_ give him some food for thought for future scenes.

For now, the plug Sam's wearing – the one Gabriel had instructed him to put in before coming to his place – is simple. Black. Boring. But then again, it had been one of the biggest ones he'd bought for Sam. He almost wishes he'd been able to see Sam during his the car ride over; to watch him squirm and try to hide his dirty little secret from his big brother.

“Up,” he says, and Sam scrambles to his feet as quick as he can, his knees red from sitting on the hardwood floor for so long. Gabriel gives himself a few seconds to appreciate the sight – lets his eyes skim over all the muscle and unblemished skin, ripe for the taking. “On the bed. Head down, ass up.”

And, fuck if that isn't a good look for Sam: on his knees, ass presented to Gabriel to do whatever he wants with. His cock feels like it's been filled with cement - so hard that it's verging on painful - but he has more important things to take care of first before he gets his rocks off.

The bed creaks and dips as Gabriel crawls behind him, only stopping to unzip himself. It barely helps, but at least he isn't so damn constricted.

He runs a palm over Sam's ass, leaning in to bite, scraping his teeth over the flesh. Sam letting out a groan. “Always so responsive,” Gabriel teases. “Guess I'm just that good.”

Sam doesn't reply in words, but he catches the way that he shudders in anticipation. Gabriel can't help but smirk, running his hand over the heated, flushed skin of his back, crotch pressed to where the plug is, still firmly in place “What do you need from me, handsome?”

With a whimper, Sam grinds back on his cock, gripping the bed sheets tight.

“Nope, not good enough. Words, Sam.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Gabriel hums, giving his ass another squeeze. “You want me to fuck you, what?”

“Sir. I want you to fuck me, sir. _Please_.”

And, fuck, he sounds so desperate and needy, and far be it from Gabriel to not take pity on the guy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says, his hand finding the flat end of the plug. Shame, really – Sam looks pretty like this. There's always been something appealing about the idea of making Sam walk around with that thing in. Maybe he'll get him to start wearing it to class one of these days. The thought of him squirming on one of those uncomfortable lecture benches is all too tempting to pass up. Gabriel might even be tempted to go in and pose as a Law student himself just to get the pleasure of seeing it.

He toys with it a little – pulls on it to tease, only to bury it back inside Sam, smirking when he lets out a groan in frustration. “Gabe--”

“My my, Sam. Sounds like somebody didn't get the memo,” Gabriel replies, every bit as smug as he's feeling. “You gotta remember how you're supposed to be addressing me here.”

“Sir. _Please_.”

He lets out a long, exaggerated put-upon sigh, but honestly, if Sam had decided to act like the bratty sub who's just begging to be punished (as he tends to do now and again), it would've been just as frustrating for both of them. As it is, he wants nothing more than to bury himself inside Sam and ride this thing out.

He thrusts the plug in and out a few more times for good measure, then removes it, slowly, watching Sam shudder as he pulls it all the way out. Once it’s free, he sets it on the bed beside him.

Gabriel lets out a low whistle, propping himself up on his knees behind Sam, pulling the condom and lube he'd stored for convenience from his pocket. He rolls it on with shaky hands, then coats a generous amount of lube over the rubber. The leftover is spread over Sam's hole. His finger sinks in with ease. Sam’s all slick and loose and ready for him as expected.

He doesn't bother with any more prep. Sam likes a little pain. They've talked about it in depth, and Gabriel's well aware of his limits. The head of his cock teases over Sam's hole in silent warning. Sam grinds back on the touch and the shudder of his breath tells Gabriel all he needs to know.

When he sinks in, they both groan in tandem – Gabriel's cock pulsing as the hot, wet heat envelopes him. Sam's loose from the plug, but still tight around him, and he thinks he might just be able to come from that alone.

“Say the word when you're ready, kiddo.”

“Ready,” Sam murmurs into the pillow, a second later.

The word is a welcome relief, the burning need in the pit of Gabriel's stomach far too impatient to wait. He knows exactly what Sam likes, and he's learned over the years that he's not made of glass.

So he wastes no time in moving so that he's barely inside Sam by an inch, only to slam back in, eliciting a choked sob from Sam as he grasps onto the sheets below him.

Gabriel runs his hand over Sam's back – the smooth skin slick with a sheen of sweat – then  slides it into the strands of his hair, tightening his grip. “Fuck, Sam, you're so good for me. If only you knew what you did to me.”

Not that he hasn't bottomed for Sam now and again. Hell, sometimes he's the one that asks for it. There's no doubt about it that he prefers this, though – prefers being the one to call the shots and watch Sam come apart under his touch.

Which is exactly why the sight of Sam squirming makes his breath shudder in delight, goosebumps rising on his skin as he rides the high. The room fills with the noise of skin slapping together and their combined pants and groans. The bed creaks under them. It’s been tested far too many times to be even remotely stable anymore, but they’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.

It's not going to last long. There's been too much teasing – Sam's been wearing the damn plug practically all day, and Gabriel's spent that time anticipating this moment. With another loud groan, Sam's back arches and Gabriel tugs on his hair so that they're both up on their knees, still pounding relentlessly as he clamps his lips down on the back of his neck, small red blemishes forming in his wake.

His free hand slides down Sam's chest and folds around his cock in a tight grip, Sam choking out a sob of relief as he moves his hips in tandem. As Sam tightens around him, Gabriel’s stomach muscles tighten with it and ripples of pleasure become shockwaves as they both rise up and over the finishing line together. Sam spills all over his hand as Gabriel fills the condom with a shuddered groan.

It's not until they've (half-assedly) cleaned themselves up and Sam's half asleep in his arms that shit hits the fan.

“I love you, Gabe,” he murmurs.

Gabriel's eyes snap open wide, all thoughts of getting any shut-eye banished from his mind.

 

***  


Gabriel sets his beer down on the counter, watching as Jo flits back and forth, trying to busy herself. It's a Tuesday night – always their quietest. Half the stools at the bar aren't even full. Which is why, when the one next to him scrapes across the floor and someone sits down, he knows something's up.

It's not Sam. He can sense that almost immediately. Which only leaves one alternative.

“I really gotta talk to my brother about keeping you on a tighter leash, Deano.” 

The growl that sounds out beside him is enough confirmation, and he lets out a puff of amusement – although he hardly feels it himself. The alcohol helps to numb the pain, but it's not a miracle-worker.

“Yeah, here's the thing,” Dean starts, and Gabriel rolls his eyes because he's heard way too many of the infamous Dean Winchester Rants™ to know where this is heading. “My brother's sitting in my apartment moping, and I didn't spend my entire goddamn childhood trying to give him a half-decent life with what little chance we got just for some Grade-A douchebag with a height complex to come and tear it all down again. So I'm gonna give you a chance to tell me why I shouldn't end you right here and now.”

Gabriel snorts. “That's all very intimidating, bucko. Or it would be if I couldn't take you out with my pinky finger without breaking a sweat.”

It's true, too. He's sparred with the eldest Winchester before. Dean's good, but he's better. The only people that are a near enough even match for him are his own brothers. He's been trained to fight since birth – and for someone his size, he has an impressive amount of strength.

(Something that both he and Sam have definitely taken advantage of, time and time again.)

Accepting a beer from Jo, Dean twists so that he's facing him – glaring him down. Because nobody does stubborn like the Winchesters. He's learned this first-hand over the years, even before he and Sam started this little arrangement of theirs.

“Alright, listen up, you dick.” Gabriel fights the urge to roll his eyes, letting Dean get his piece out. “I'm gonna give you a choice right here and now. Either you pull your head out your ass and come grovelling to my brother for his forgiveness for sleeping with him and leaving him in your bed in the middle of the fucking night, and a promise that you're sticking around to be with him, or you walk away for good. Never come near him again. No booty calls, no texts, nothing. Because if you ever hurt him again, I will hunt you down, and you have no idea what I'm capable of when it comes to my brother.”

Piece said, Dean slams his money down on the counter, scowl still present. “Drink's on me. Don't say I never did anything for you.”

And with that, the stool is vacated, and Gabriel takes another gulp of his beer. The sharp tang tastes like metal in the back of his throat.

Fuck, he hates it when Dean's right.  


***  


In hindsight, he really should've seen it all coming from a mile away.

They started off as friends. Gabriel had been working the late shift at Kali's – a slightly more classy student bar in the heart of Silicon Valley named after its equally classy owner, who'd been good enough to take in a scruffy runaway who hadn't slept in days and was likely sporting a real case of the hobo stubble. Either she was short-staffed, or she just took pity on him. Kali's by no means a pushover – not by any stretch of the imagination – but she tends to have a weakness for strays

In any case, she'd given him a job and insisted that he get cleaned up – even gave him an advance on his wage just so that he could buy himself something appropriate to wear (Kali-approved, of course). He'll never not be grateful.

It wasn't long after he'd settled in that the Sasquatch showed up – all long-limbed and tanned, and Gabriel couldn't help but wonder just how many other freckles Sam has dotted over his body (the answer is too many to count – he's tried and failed. In his defence, all that skin and muscle is far too distracting for a guy to resist).

If the Stanford hoodie wasn't a clear giveaway that he was a student, his tendency to show up sleep-deprived and badly in the need of a way to blow of steam would've been enough. They didn't talk at first – Gabriel admired (and gave silent prayers of thank-yous to whoever was listening) the deliciously tight-fitted shirts that hugged his - evidently - carefully maintained torso in all the right ways.

After a while, he'd started coming alone – perching himself at the bar with his nose buried in some pretentiously heavy law book, furiously scribbling down notes. The wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows when he was in concentration mode was all too adorable for Gabriel to resist.

So he stopped resisting, and got to talking to him as he served his drinks during his shifts. At first it was light conversation. His name was Sam, he was a law student, he was working on maintaining his ridiculously high GPA, and he _clearly_ didn't know when to give his brain a damn rest for the night.

Call him soft, but Gabriel couldn't resist being the one to help the kid let loose a little bit.

It had been completely innocent on his part – which really should be counted as an oxymoron when it comes to Gabriel. The kid reminded him of himself a little before he'd left home – far too much pressure put on him to outshine his siblings. Between that and all the fighting, Gabriel hadn't been able to take it anymore and got the hell out of there.

The pressure on Sam was different, though. Oh, there was still some resentment towards his dad – Gabriel recognised that all too well – but, ironically,  it wasn't that Sam's dad was pressuring him to do well. Rather, he just didn't support his studies at all. He thought he'd do better taking over the family business.

(To this day, Gabriel still doesn't have a damn clue what that means – all he knows is that it involves a lot of travelling, and he suspects it's not entirely above board either.)

However, Sam was determined to prove himself. To prove to his dad that he could do this – that it was all worth it somehow. That he wasn't like his brother – willing to sacrifice any desire to strike out on his own just to please him.

The more he got to know Sam, though, the more he started to loosen up. Study nights alone at the bar became friendly chatter and teasing, teasing turned into flirting, and flirting gave way to drinking together after one shift and ending up in Gabriel's apartment the very same night.

(It had been then that he discovered that he and Sam had a lot more in common than he'd initially thought – kinks and all.)

It became a way to blow off steam. A casual hookup. Sam came to him when he was feeling stressed out and pressured, and Gabriel would let him sink to his knees and give him the chance to not have to think for a night.

He didn't expect it to give way to feelings, but he supposes that’s just the effect of Sam Winchester.  


***  


He doesn't go to Sam that night, but he does go home. If he's going to try to make it up to Sam, he's going to make sure it's not half-assed, and that he's slept on it enough to know that he's not going to be one foot out the door the entire time.

When he wakes up the next morning, though, sun streaming through the gap in his blinds and his sheets pooling around his torso and the lack of a warm, welcoming body beside him, he knows what he needs to do.

He tries the dorms first, hopeful that Sam wasn't still sulking around his brother's apartment, but to no avail.

But at least he knows where Dean lives. He's dropped Castiel off there plenty of times. Those two knuckleheads spend so much damn time together that Gabriel doesn't really believe it anymore when his brother tries to tell him that they're “just friends” (the parentheses had been entirely Cas' addition, not his).

But today isn't about their stupidity. It's about his own.

He's never been one for big gestures. Today is no exception. He fucked up – he's man enough to accept and admit it. He's been a dumbass. Sam would likely consider it insincere if he made a show of it.

So instead he just shows up at Dean's door with a carrier bag in one hand and a pile of DVDs in the other.

He expects Dean to be the one to open it – it's his place, after all – but the sight that greets him is a far more welcome one, even if it makes Gabriel's heart slam to the pit of his stomach at the same time.

Sam's rumpled and his eyes are as heavy as they were when he first met him, but they carry a different kind of weight now. A weight that Gabriel put there.

“What do you want, Gabriel?” he asks, but rather than sounding spiteful, he just sounds exhausted. “I don't feel like having my head screwed with today.”

Gabriel lowers his eyes. He supposes he deserved that one. “You really think that's what I'm here to do?”

Sam's eyebrows do the thing – the wrinkle thing where he's clearly trying to work out some sort of complicated puzzle – before relenting, opening the door wider. “You've got five minutes. Dean's out.”

“...of the closet? It's about time,” Gabriel replies, scurrying in before Sam changes his mind. “I was starting to worry my brother was gonna die of blue balls.”

He can practically hear Sam's eye roll from behind him, but at least it's the beginning of forgiveness. He'll take it, and whatever else Sam's willing to give him as long as he's willing to give it.

When he tells Sam as much and presents the DVDs, the snacks - and the pie he'd bought for Dean as a thank you for kicking his ass into gear - they're too busy getting naked and horizontal on Dean's couch to even get around to watching anything.

(Dean's horrified scream when he gets back to find them basking in the afterglow and making out like teenagers makes it all worth it, though.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on tumblr at [@thescarletspeedstress](http://thescarletspeedstress.tumblr.com).


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